


Three minutes

by bamfleur



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I just got so sad, I'm Sorry, Plot What Plot, my parents deserve better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfleur/pseuds/bamfleur
Summary: I think the title pretty much says it all.





	Three minutes

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the song "It's ok" from Thom Rosenthal and I could not not relate it to Bellarke. I was crying. Enjoy.

**_3 minutes_ **

He looked at her through the dirty glass. She was on the floor, her body leaning heavily against the door, her hands pressing against her probably fatal wound.

“Clarke…”, he managed to choke out. “Clarke you can’t do this. Open the door!” He wouldn’t let her do this. She was always sacrificing herself, never thinking about what it would do to her. To him.

Clarke produced a weak smile. Her sun-kissed blonde hair was framing her beautiful face, blue eyes and blood-smeared skin and all. “You know this is the only way. They only way to save us all.”

Of course Bellamy knew. They had tried everything. It had been one lost cause after the other, hopeless searches each time. It had come to the point where they didn’t even grasp for straws, but for leads thinner than hair. But this. Everything but this.

“Clarke, please. We’ll find another solution. We always do.”

Clarke wanted to say something, but she coughed blood instead. It was an ugly sight, her spitting out gooey redness and saliva. Bellamy wanted to rip the world apart.

“Don’t do this to me. The people need you. _I_ need you.”

There was no answer, only that painful coughing. Bellamy thought it might be the sound of his heart breaking. He knew that it would never leave his dreams again - the sight of her dying right in front of his eyes, and him being unable to help.  All muscles in his body were tense, his nails were digging red half-moons in his balms. Everything in him screamed _save her save her save her_.

**_2 minutes_ **

She seemed to have composed herself again. But there was blood, just so much blood.

“Bellamy”, she finally managed to croak out, “You are the most selfless and bravest person I have ever met. You are a great leader. A great friend. And even though I would have never thought it...” She grinned slightly, her teeth full of blood, “I am so glad to have known you. This is not your fault. I am Wanheda. I _have_ to do this.”

How could she talk like that? Didn’t she know?

“I don’t care. _I don’t care._ You are Clarke Griffin, worthy to be saved. To live. To  laugh. To love.”

Clarke just continued to smile at him, but he could see her eyes getting dull, the bright blue colour losing its intensity.

He didn’t care about his crying now. Ugly as it was, there was nothing else to feel than desperation and anguish.

“Please, Clarke. Please! _We will find another way!”_

“I have to save them, Bellamy. I have to save you.”

He lost it.

He was hammering against the unmovable door, scratching until his fingers were bleeding, slamming into the frame, kicking it, punching the unbreakable glass until it was bloody too, screaming, sobbing, swearing, babbling, attacking the barrier that was between him and Clarke, that wall that separated him from the only good thing left in his life.

“ _PLEASE!”_

**_1 minute_ **

“Promise me you will forgive yourself.”

He nearly overheard her now faint voice, his sorrow and rage nearly swallowing him whole.

“It should have been me, Clarke.”

There it was, the simple truth. And then Clarke had ignored it.

“Promise me.”

“ _Saving others is not worth it if I’m losing you!”_

He was broken already. She was his weak spot, and now they had found it.

“Promise me.”

“You are leaving! And this time, you aren’t coming back, Clarke.” Half-talking, half-crying.

“I had to lock the door, Bellamy. I _had to_. Now, promise me.” The words were coming out in raspy breaths. 

He tried to take her in, burn her picture into his mind. Under all that blood and grime there still were her straight nose and soft lips, skin like rose petals and eyes like the sky, hair like the warmest light. She was as beautiful as ever.

“But… You can’t leave me.”, he whispered, “You can’t leave me.”

He tried to stop his tears from streaming down his face, he wanted to get a clear view of her for as long as possible. She was so strong, so incredibly strong, as she always had been – Talking to him even with a deadly wound and seconds before she would be blasted to nothingness – and he couldn’t even begin to form the words that could convey all the respect, admiration and love he had for her.  

“Promise me.”

He felt like being pulled underwater. There was no surface, just darkness and death surrounding him, and he sank deeper and deeper into the icy blackness. But he knew he had no choice.

“I promise”, he choked out. _Liar, liar, liar_ the black around him seemed to echo, but he had to try. For her.

She looked at him with suddenly clear eyes, the miracle of life fighting back death for one last time. They were doing what they always did – Communicating without words, reading each other’s thoughts as if they were one.

“It’s going to be okay, Bellamy. I know some day I’m gonna be with you.”

A weak smile. His brave princess, always defying death, until now. _Until now._ The pain nearly consumed him whole.

He wanted to kiss her, hold her, heal her, _save_ her _._ She was so close, yet impossible to reach.

“You’ll always be with me. I love you, don’t you know that?”

 

The clock was 00:00. 


End file.
